


I Didn't Know We Were Friends

by tulipwriter



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7879882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tulipwriter/pseuds/tulipwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Katniss Everdeen goes to sleep at night, she dreams of a strange place called "Panem University" in the year 2016. One night, Peeta Mellark shows up at something called a "frat party." Katniss decides to take the opportunity to say to him all the things she never could in real life. But what if these dreams are a little more real than she bargained for?</p><p>Katniss and Peeta are never in the Hunger Games. Right before their last reaping, they start dreaming about themselves in fanfiction form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Didn't Know We Were Friends

“Here, Brainless, hold my drink,” a dark haired woman about my size, or lack thereof, hands me a bright red plastic cup. “I have a rendezvous in the coat closet with that fine specimen of a male over there. Can’t trust these asshole frat boys for ten seconds with an unattended beer. Best case scenario, one of them will piss in it.”

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve slipped into an alternate reality each night. Under the cover of darkness, I enter a fantasy world that’s both back in time and oddly futuristic. Each time I get a glimpse at a date, I see I’m meant to be in the year 2016. Five hundred years ago. We don’t learn much about pre-Panem history in school, other than a vague notion that it was an uncivilized, chaotic era-- whereas we live in the time of Order and Peace, thanks to the Generosity Of The Capitol.

“What?” I ask the mystery woman.

She points to a guy standing about twenty feet away in the distance, guarding a door as if his life depended on it. My view of him is obscured by a great pulsing mass of people. I hear a rhythmic thumping in the background that I assume is music but maybe also an earthquake. He looks familiar, but it takes me a couple of seconds to place him. It’s Thresh. He was the almost-winner of the 74th Hunger Games and pretty unforgettable. His size and brute force made him one of the most promising tributes to ever come out of an outlying district. The way he cried when little Rue died… it almost started a revolution. But then actual-winner of the games, Cato, bashed his skull in with a rock and reminded us all who holds the real power.

“What’s Thresh doing here?” I shout.

She shrugs. “Is that his name? We never got around to formal introductions. Listen, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Unless this Thresh guy knows what he’s doing, and then I’ll be gone all night. Hitch a ride with Finnick if you don’t see me again.”

The mention of Finnick Odair’s name jars my memory. Johanna Mason! That’s who she is. This dream is like the ghosts of Hunger Games past.

As if on cue, the legendary Capitol playboy himself struts over to where I’m standing. I’m in for an even bigger surprise, because, at his side, is none other than Peeta Mellark. 

For a moment, I’m relieved to see a familiar face, until I remember I don’t know Peeta, not really. We’ve never spoken beyond the rare instance when he thanked me for passing out test papers in English class, or I thanked him for retrieving a pencil that rolled out of my reach. No, our communication is mostly limited to him staring at me when he thinks I don’t notice. 

I know why he does it. When we were eleven, he threw me a couple loaves of bread at a time where it was the difference between survival and starvation. I have never been able to repay him. As the years have gone on, I’ve noticed his focus on me has become more… intense. I suppose he’s getting impatient. And it’s not as if I don’t want to honor my debt. Owing someone is shameful behavior in the Seam. But I can’t pay it.

Everything Gale and I hunt or forage in the woods gets eaten or traded for absolute necessities. On the rare instance where we do have extra, I sneak the game to Hazelle. Gale might be too proud to take charity, but his mother isn’t, and it’s one of the many reasons I admire her. Canceling an old debt with the well-fed baker’s son takes a back seat to feeding hungry siblings. With my tessera about to run out, I might never be able to repay him.

And I must be feeling really guilty about it for Peeta Mellark to start crashing my dreams. Stupid subconscious. 

“Kat-Katniss?” Peeta asks in a state of shock. Well, that makes two of us.

I respond with a shy, pathetic little wave. “Hi, Peeta.” While awake, I exhibit the social skills of a toddler, and there’s apparently no improvement while asleep. I look around and hope some portal will open up and swallow me whole.

“Well aren’t you just a vision in that dress, Everdeen,” Finnick looks me up and down like he’s eyeing a prize buck. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” He nudged Peeta with his elbow. “I bet my boy Peeta did, though.”

I ignore the way Finnick is grinning at me, and the way Peeta’s face has turned an unnatural shade of crimson, and take note of what I’m wearing. I suddenly feel very exposed. I start to tug up the neckline of the fabric with one hand and yank down the hem with the other.

Finnick laughs at my ministrations. “What the hell did you take, and can I have some?”

I scowl at him and glare at Peeta. “You’re friends with this guy?”

“Apparently,” he says through gritted teeth.

“That’s the spirit!” Finnick slaps him hard so hard on the back it propels him forward. He bumps into the cup I’m holding, spilling Johanna’s drink down the front of my almost-a-dress.

“Sorry!”

He scrambles to find something to sop up the mess, and Finnick hands him a square piece of white paper. He freezes, not sure what to do with it, and seemingly terrified that it might involve touching me. Finnick gives a sad shake of the head and hands it to me. It’s surprisingly absorbent.

“Is there someplace I can clean up?”

Finnick guides me to a small room and closes the door behind me. I can’t believe how bright it is inside this windowless area I’m guessing is a bathroom. I play around with some knobs and amazingly both hot and cold water comes pouring out. It’s crystal clear, not the murky stuff that comes out of the tap back home.

I towel off with some more paper squares I find stacked on the edge of the sink, and look in the mirror. I barely recognize the person who stares back at me. Dark lines circle around my eyes, and there’s a glittery substance on my lids. My lips are a glossy pink. I lick them and they taste a bit like strawberries. My first instinct is to wash it all off, to be me again. I decide against it. I wouldn’t mind being someone else for a little while.

I walk out of the bathroom and straight into Peeta’s broad backside.

I cross my arms against my chest. “Why are you blocking the door?” It comes across as more of an accusation than I mean it to.

He sighs. “I’m hiding from Finnick Odair. He kept lecturing me about something called the ‘friend zone,’ and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Friend zone? Where does my subconscious come up with this stuff?

I snort. “I wouldn’t mind ditching Johanna Mason. I’m worried she has an axe hidden around here somewhere. Maybe we can team up, keep a look out?”

“You’d want to hang out with me?”

He says it so incredulously-- as if he can’t believe I’d have the nerve to suggest a Merchant kid cross the lines of decency to befriend a Seam rat, even if for a few moments in a dream. I regret asking him, surprised at how much his rejection stings me.

I turn around in an effort to put some distance between us and start planning my escape. But then I hear Peeta mumble something. I make out a couple of his words. Figures… leaving… even in dream. My annoyance and curiosity overwhelm my desire to flee. “What’s that?” I ask him. He looks caught, embarrassed. Good.

He stares at the ground, fascinated with the way his shoes scrape against the carpet. He opens his mouth to say something, but we’re interrupted by a drunk and grinning Johanna Mason. 

“Katniss! I’ve been looking for you. I was worried something had happened. Although now I see you were in good hands the whole time. Isn’t that right, Hot Buns?”

Hold up. Did she just wink at Peeta?

“Now, come along, children, someone opened a bottle of tequila, and we need to find Finnick before he does something stupid.”

A loud crashing sound is followed by a deafening roar of cheers.

“Christ, we’re too late.”

“Johannnnnnna!” Finnick slurs. He’s sitting on a countertop, waving an empty bottle around in the air. He belts out some twisted melody on the top of his lungs. All I can make out are the words “Panem” and “pride.”

I stick my fingers in my ears. “What is he screeching about?”

“What? You don’t recognize our very own Panem University fight song?” Johanna asks.

I can honestly say I have no idea what she's talking about.

“I wanna play spin the bottle!” Finnick shouts. “Not me, though. Because I’m with Aaaa… Ann… Annie! I’m dating Annie. No, I want to watch you guys play.”

He looks in my direction when he says this, and I don’t like it. I have no idea why Finnick Odair would want me to spin around a container of white liquor, but I have a bad feeling about it.

“What’s going on in here?” a familiar voice pipes up from behind me, and I spin around to face Gale in the flesh. He’s smiling, happy, and I can’t help but return the sentiment. I never get to see Gale like this. It’s nice.

Then I notice his arm draped around a buxom blonde who I barely recognize despite sitting across from her at lunch on a daily basis. “Madge?” Sweet, shy Madge at a party, cavorting with a Seam boy, and dressed like this? Her dad would so kill her if anything from this dream were actually real.

Meanwhile, Peeta’s eyes are popping out of his head. “Wow, Madge. You look… wow.”

I resist the urge to vomit. Not that I’m jealous. It’s just that it’s so predictable, in a nauseating way. A rich, popular blonde boy lusting over a rich, busty blonde girl. More than anything, I’m embarrassed at his lack of originality.

“Thanks, Peeta! You’re too sweet. Katniss looks great tonight, too. Doesn’t she?” 

Now Madge is the one winking at Peeta, and I’m starting to suspect I’ve missed something important. I look over at him, and he’s turned red again. I worry for his circulation.

Gale clears his throat. “Yeah, Catnip cleans up great. I, for one, always look forward to the three days a year she puts in the effort to look like a real girl.”

He nudges me with his elbow and grins. I change my mind. I don’t like this Gale after all.

Finnick is still in the background, demanding attention for his antics. He’s found a metal spoon and clangs it against a metal pot in a pattern that almost sounds like morse code.

Johanna snaps. “Would someone spin that damn bottle and shut him up? I’m coming down with a migraine.”

“Nooooo!” Finnick shrieks, waving his arms in front of him in a blind panic. “I changed my… my brain thingy… my mind! Changed my mind. Seven minutes in Heaven. Heaven!”

He doubles over in laughter, and Johanna pinches the bridge of her nose. She turns to me, and I’m overcome with a sinking feeling.

“Sorry, kiddies. I can’t take anymore of him, and he’s not going to shut up until you two idiots get into the closet, so off you go. Hustle, hustle.”

She grabs my arm with one of her fists, and yanks on the collar of Peeta’s shirt with the other.

“Hey!” I’m not sure if it’s me or him who cries out. Possibly both. Before I can react, we’re being shoved into a confined space.

“Listen, Finnick thinks he’s doing you two a favor. You know how he can get when Annie’s out of town and he’s hit the hooch. Just spend a few minutes in here. Who knows, you might enjoy yourselves. If not, you can always steal shit.”

Johanna slams the door shut, and we’re instantly enveloped in a dark and nervous silence. I can hear Finnick cheering from behind the door. I feel panic rising in my throat. What if he tries something with me? Worse yet, what if he tries to have a conversation?

“Katniss?” Peeta speaks up after a while has passed.

I swallow. “Yeah?”

“Do you think there’s a light in here?”

I can’t imagine there would be. Who would wire a closet with electricity. Seems like a gigantic waste. Still, we both start groping around for a switch, a pull, something, and I’m grateful for the distraction the task provides. I hear a click, and the space floods with light illuminating all the useless junk that surrounds us.

For a beat we just stare at each other, both of us pressing our backs against the walls to give us as much space between our faces as possible. Then my mouth betrayed me. 

“I’m sorry I never paid you back for the bread!” I blurted out and then clamped my hands over my lips to stop any further embarrassing word vomit.

“Bread?” He stammers. “From when we were kids?”

“Well, yeah. That’s why you stare at me all the time, right? I still owe you.”

“No! I don’t… that’s not why… I think we can let that go, about the bread, don’t you?” He curses under his breath. “Unbelievable. Even in my dreams I’m an idiot around you.”

My dreams he means, but I don’t see the point in arguing with a figment of my imagination. Because none of this is real.

Wait. It isn’t real. So if I did something stupid… there’d be no repercussions. 

Before I can overthink it, I close the gap between me and Peeta, push up onto my toes and kiss him.

I don’t have a lot of experience. I’ve kissed Gale a couple of times, back when we thought we could go from hunting partners to more and before we realized it was impossible. Those pecks were more chaste and friendly than romantic. I know Peeta gets around a bit more. He has lots of admirers, and I’ve spotted him lurking around the slag heap. But I must be doing something right, because Peeta links his arms around my back and presses me closer to him, melting into the kiss.

Then he pushes me away. “Katniss, what are you doing?”

I shrug. “Having a nice dream?”

“You’re not kissing me because of the bread, are you?”

I’m a little taken aback by his suggestion. “I don’t offer up those types of services as payment, Peeta.”

His blue eyes grow wide as saucers, and, to his credit, he looks genuinely scandalized that I’d suggest such a thing. “What? No! I didn’t mean… I would never…”

I can’t help but take pity on him. “Relax, Peeta. It was a misunderstanding. Take deep breaths.”

Then he stares at me. I feel scared, I feel excited, I don’t know what I feel. “Fuck it” is all he says before embracing me and pressing his lips against mine once more. This time there’s no hesitation or insecurity. This kiss is bold and desperate and wanting. And good. I didn’t know it could be this good. When he finally pulls back, his lips are red and swollen, and I imagine mine are as well. We’re panting and the closet feels a hundred degrees warmer than it did a minute ago.

He smiles at me. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?” I put my hands behind my back, instantly suspicious.

He sighs. “Katniss, just trust me. Please.”

His face contorts into a puppy dog expression, with sad, sappy eyes. Prim would melt into a puddle if she saw him do this. I’m still not convinced this won’t result in some kind of mean prank, but I put out my hand regardless. He pulls a pen off a shelf in the closet and starts doodling on my skin.

“It’s a…” I say when peak at his finished work. I can barely choke out the words.

“A dandelion,” he finishes my thought. “They’re from the earth and tough, and they bring the hope of Spring. Whenever I see a dandelion, I think of you.”

He remembers the dandelion. Or at least he does in my dreams. I’m at a loss from words, when my thoughts are interrupted by Johanna’s voice coming from the other side of the door.

“Alright, lovebirds! Time’s up.”

I wake up.

 

*****

 

At the breakfast table, Prim stirs the thin glop that passes for porridge in the Seam, looking miserable. I wish I had more to offer her, but the season has been lean. I’ll make an extra effort to hunt in bird’s nests for eggs next time I go out.

She turns to me. “Who’s Peeta?”

I stop mid-spoon. “Huh?”

“Last night, you were talking in your sleep. You kept repeating the name Peeta.”

Oh no. I put on a bored look and hoped it was convincing. “I don’t know. I never remember my dreams.”

“Hmmm. The only Peeta _I_ know is the youngest Mellark brother. Maybe you’ve seen him around the bakery when you trade?”

I reach over the table to grab the teapot, which gives me an excuse not to meet Prim in the eyes. “It’s possible.”

“Isn’t he in your grade?”

I shrug. “Maybe, I’m not sure. Hey, I have an errand to run at the Hob today. Do you want me to pick up a ball of twine for Buttercup?”

I can see the gears turning in Prim’s head. I can tell she wants to take the bait, but her desire to invade my private life like an attack dog outweighs my attempted distraction.

“Buttercup’s fine,” she says and narrows her eyes into slits. “There’s only fifty kids in your class, Katniss. You’re sure you don’t know him?”

I tell her the truth. “I don’t know him at all.”

 

*****

 

He sits two desks in front of me in Chemistry class, and I’m impossibly distracted by the back of his head. Mercifully, the bell rings, and I’ll be free of Peeta Mellark for the rest of the afternoon. 

I gather up my books as quickly as I can and bolt for the door. In the aisle between the desks, a small scrap of paper falls onto the floor. I bend down to pick it up.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it.”

The voice is newly familiar to me. Peeta.

Something deep inside tells me to look down, and so I do.

On the paper, Peeta had drawn a dandelion. _The_ dandelion. The exact same doodle he inked on the back of my hand in the dream.

But how is that possible?

**Author's Note:**

> I avoided posting this one for a while, because my beta tester (aka husband) said: "I don't get it."
> 
> M for future chapters


End file.
